Roses for My Mother
Amidst the noise of the hammers, the cries of the two thieves fastened to their Crosses, insulting speeches of the Pharisees and shouts of drunken executioners—a sudden darkness diffused at Mount Calvary. The change was gradually coming over the face of nature—a looming darkness increased with passage of time. Stillness reigned around the Cross. Jesus hung upon it all alone. As darkness continued to grow denser, the silence became perfectly astounding. Mary stood by the Cross. Her countenance was wan and pale, her eyes red with weeping. The mother looked upon her Son in agony upon the Cross, torn with compassion for the pains He suffered. Jesus looked toward His mother but He could not see her with all the blood dripping over His eyes. He was obliged to compress His eyebrows to remove the blood from His eyes. When Jesus then saw His mother and the disciple standing, whom He loved, He said to His mother: “Woman, behold your son.” Then He said to the disciple, “Behold your mother” (John 19:26).
For a long time, when I was still in the swaddling clothes of a child, I used to pester my mom about why she could not find a rare startling name of a saint for my baptism. Why of all the numerous benevolent names of angels and saints, was I given the name “Mary” which turned out to be the most common. Little did I know how great a name I had received in baptism, until I met a pious sister. She had a kind smile on her face and after praying for me, the religious said, “O my child! Jesus loves you very much! He is right here in your heart … But why do you neglect praying to His mother … the Blessed Mother of God is sorrowful because you seldom talk to her!”
This was true … Though I am a born Catholic, as a child I resorted to Jesus in everything. When I happened to glance at the image of dear Mother Mary, I thought with childish simplicity, “Well, I have already told Him.” The words of the religious struck my heart. From then on, I began to think about the Holy Mother of God.
My prayer to know her more was answered with the arrival of the International Pilgrim Virgin Statue of Our Lady of Fatima at our parish. The world-famous statue was sculpted based on the description by one of the three young seers. So great was the enthusiasm when this manifest unveiled before our eyes and I was transfixed by the look of longing on her face. It was as if she was emanating a sweet call of love. The words of Our Lady “Pray the Rosary every day to obtain peace for the world” touched my heart. Moved by her love, I took the Rosary in my hands. With the help of a Rosary prayer card (until then my mom never taught me the Rosary, saying you have to grow older to pray it well) looking at prayer marked on each bead, I began slowly to recite my first Rosary. It was really tedious, stretching to one whole hour of patient recitation. But when I put the sign of the cross to complete the Rosary, the peace that filled my heart was indescribable. I could feel the depth of the words “peace that surpasses all understanding.” Looking up with a grateful heart at the statue of Our Lady of Fatima, I closed my eyes and then I saw a big garland of blood red roses suspended in air. Suddenly it dawned on me! The Rosary I prayed is now a beautiful garland of red roses for Mother of God! I could see the Holy Mother adorned with the blooming crown of roses and my joy knew no bounds. Replenished with a greater zeal, from then on praying the Rosary turned into a daily habit. Weeks after this incident, during a retreat the priest spoke about the Rosary like this, “Each Hail Mary is a rose. By praying the Rosary, we make a beautiful crown of roses for our dear mother.” This was a confirmation of what I saw! It was not a dream or my imagination.
Little by little, the dawn of realization came upon me. She indeed is my mother. Upon the Cross, when He said, “Behold, your mother,” Jesus really gave us His own mother. Those of you reading this may be wondering how the Mother of God can be your own mother. Some of you might have lost your mother or been separated from her in the tumult of divorce, others may be taunted with less caring and understanding mothers. Yet to all, Mary is our mother. With a love deeper and vast beyond our measure, she cares for each of us individually as our spiritual mother. As Saint Louis de Montfort says, “While on earth, we are hidden in Mary because we are formed by the Holy Spirit, in her, at the likeness of Jesus. We are indeed enclosed in her womb.”
Whatever problem we place through the Rosary before the Blessed Mother Mary, it is sure to obtain a solution. Many times the Blessed Mother has bestowed the grace of a sweet fragrance while praying the Rosary. At first I never noticed, but later I found this feeling is really a sign of her tender love. It is not by the greatness of our prayer or sacrifice, but by her unfathomable motherly love that she enfolds us into the merciful love of God. The Rosary may seem like an insignificant thing in light of the evils in today’s world, but it is the weapon given to us by Our Lady. It is like the slingshot of David that killed the mighty enemy. He who prays the Rosary has the power of God in his hand. Oftentimes, when feeling less fervent, one is tempted to stop praying the Rosary. No matter how great the distraction, Our Lady merely asks our cooperation and she will do the rest.
Once I heard from the sermon of a priest that Mary experienced all the pain and sufferings of Jesus in the same measure or even more in her heart. But I could not accept that Mary suffered as much as Jesus suffered in the passion. How can that be? Yes, she is the mother of Jesus but how could we compare what Jesus suffered both interior and exterior as being felt the same by Blessed Virgin Mary. As a mother she would be crushed in heart to see the sacrifice of her only son on the Cross. But all the blows, insults, piercing of hands, the torturing death inflicted on Jesus—how can we equal their sufferings?
This curious question was answered when my baby came into this world at barely six months of pregnancy. I had to see my tiny little one strapped on all fours with cannulas and put through a lot of needles to inject medicines or draw blood every hour—she was literally trapped in a torrent of winding tubes. As I stood next to her, watching her wrenching in pain at the slightest prod, I realized that I experience her pain a hundred-fold. Then I thought of our most Sorrowful Mother. I understood then the pain which the Holy Virgin endured as the passion of her Son exceeded all the pains which a human heart can endure. As Mother’s Day is celebrated during the month of May, we Catholics dedicate May as the month of Mary. “May Crowning” marks a new spiritual season. It is a time of the year when abundant graces are poured out generously from heaven. Let us fervently recite the Rosary to make a beautiful crown of roses for our dear Mother. Let us remember that it was the Blessed Mother herself who gave us the Rosary. She merged every drop of blood that fell at Calvary together with all the tears she shed following Jesus through His agony, passion and death to form the Rosary in our hands.
Prayer:
O most blessed Virgin Mary! Holy Mother of God! Glorious Queen of heaven and earth! Accept the offering I present thee in the month of May, specially dedicated to thee. Receive me, O Mother of Mercy, among thy most beloved children; obtain for me a place in the Heart of Jesus. May my heart burn with the love of thy Divine Son, and of thee, His Blessed Mother, not for a month alone, but for time and eternity; O Mary, the refuge of sinners! Grant me a Mother’s blessing and a Mother’s care, now, and at the hour of my death. Amen.
Reshma Thomas is a wife and mother of four wonderful children. She finds great joy in doing little works for Jesus, and making known his merciful love revealed through her life-experiences. She lives with her family in Kerala, India.
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Crosses came in one after the other, but the Lord’s mercy never failed this family! I gave birth to my firstborn ten years ago, and we were overjoyed! I still remember the day; we were so glad to know that it was a baby girl. I couldn’t thank the Lord enough for His blessings upon my family. Like every mother, I dreamt of buying cute frocks, clips, and booties for my little doll. We named her ‘Athalie,’ meaning ‘God is exalted.’ We were praising God for His beautiful gift. Little did we know that our joy would soon be turned into a deep heartache or that our prayer of gratitude would soon be replaced with petitions for His mercy for our precious baby. At four months old, she became severely sick. With multiple seizure attacks, she would cry for hours and couldn’t sleep or feed well. After multiple tests, she was diagnosed with brain damage; she was also suffering from a rare kind of severe childhood epilepsy named ‘West Syndrome,’ which affects one in 4,000 children. Repeated Blows The diagnosis was too shocking and heartbreaking for us. I didn’t know how I could face the storm. I wanted my heart to be numb to the emotional pain I was going through. Many questions ran through my mind. This was just the beginning of a long and painful journey that I was never prepared to take. My baby girl continued to suffer from seizures for almost two and a half years. Doctors tried multiple medicines, painful daily injections, and numerous blood tests. She would cry for hours and all I could do was to ask for God to bestow His mercy on my child. I felt helpless for not being able to comfort her in any way. Life felt like a deep and dark pit of agony and despair. Her seizures eventually subsided, but she suffered global developmental delays. As her treatment was progressing, another shocking news rattled our family. Our son Asher, who was having speech delay and behavioral issues, was diagnosed with high-functioning autism at the age of three. We were on the verge of losing hope; life felt too overwhelming for us as new parents. No one could understand or feel the pain we were going through. We felt lonely and miserable. However, this period of loneliness and the painful days of motherhood brought me closer to God; His Word provided solace to my weary soul. His promises, which I was now reading with a deeper meaning and fuller understanding, encouraged me. Spirit-led Penmanship It was during this difficult season of my life that God enabled me to write faith-filled and encouraging blogs for people going through challenges and suffering similar to mine. My articles, birthed from my daily devotions, shared the challenges of special parenthood and included my life experiences and insights. God used my words to heal many aching souls. I am truly grateful to Him for turning my life into a useful vessel for His love. I would say that the despair of our daughter’s sickness solidified our family’s faith in God. 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After many schools had initially rejected him because of his inattentiveness, I home-schooled him till grade five. Though he shows a few traits of ADHD, by God’s grace, he is now enrolled in grade six in a private Christian school. He is a book lover who shows a unique interest in the solar system. He loves learning about different countries, their flags, and maps. Though life is still filled with challenges, the love of God is what makes us parent our children with love, patience, and kindness. As we continue to embrace the hope we have in Jesus and travel through this unique path of special-needs-parenting, I believe that there are times when we have answers to our prayers right away, and our faith works and produces results. In those times, God’s strength and power are revealed in what He does for us—the sure answer to our prayers. On other occasions, His strength continues to shine through us, enabling us to endure our pain with courage, letting us experience His loving mercies in our difficulties, showing us His power in our weaknesses, teaching us to develop the ability and wisdom to take the right steps ahead, empowering us to tell stories of His strength, and encouraging us to witness His light and hope amidst our challenges.
John Taylor was in his mid-50s when he came home one day from a game of golf and shared with his wife a strange pain he had begun to experience in his hands. He was soon diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, a rare form of cancer that would slowly reduce his athletic body to mere skin and bones in a span of just 20 years. As the illness grew in strength, part of his tongue was removed; he couldn’t speak or eat, so he was fed directly through a tube. Though I had trouble understanding what he was saying, I enjoyed his company very much. He had a great sense of humor, and Anne was a beautiful cook, so I ended up spending many evenings with the family. In 2011, at the height of his illness, John, who belonged to the Church of Wales, expressed his desire to become a Catholic like his wife Anne! On Christmas Eve, a Mass was held for him in their living room. At the time of Holy Communion, I poured a little jug of the Precious Blood through his tube directly into his stomach so that he could celebrate his First Holy Communion. It was one of the most extraordinary First Holy Communions I've ever seen and one of the most beautiful Christmas Eve of my life. The memory of that day and that blessed couple still reminds me of what I am doing as a priest—bringing the Incarnation and the Precious Blood of Christ to the world. During his last days, John bled profusely every morning, so Anne had to repeatedly change his bedclothes. It was extraordinary—while John’s state reminded me of the crucified Christ, Anne was configured to the Virgin Mary who stood by and took care of Him in His passion. We buried Anne last year, more than a decade after John’s passing. Jesus said the Saints would shine like stars in the Kingdom of God; now, with two more, the night sky is brighter.
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